Bullets, Blades and Blood
by DarkWingedSerpant
Summary: Minor AU. What will the fate of the world be if the hero's are only young teenagers? Alice/Claire
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _Okay. This is my first attempt at a Resident Evil Fanfic. It is also my first slash, so be nice. I tried my best to keep it descriptive, but I'm still a novice :( it will take time to get the hang of it. Anyway, I've just discovered the movies a few days ago, I haven't seen the new one yet, and while watching it I imagined Alice to have a past similar to Hanna, from the movie 'Hanna' of course. She's 14 in this so is Claire, Carlos is about 17. Alice and Carlos are born and raised in Ukraine, FYI. It follows the Extinction timeline. I'll probably explain further later on. This first bit is just a back story really, just trying new things here._

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything relating to Resident Evil. Not even this title, since I think it's a band or something. XD_

* * *

Growing up on the run with only your father by you side has been my way of life from birth. My mother passed away when I was just a kid, back when we still lived together in a secluded cabin in the dense, snowy forests. She had stormed off after an argument with my father and spent her last hours alone in the cold unforgiving night. He found her dead, tied to a tree in the neighbouring forest the next morning and has never been the same since, this is something often told to me by my brother.

My older brother, Carlos, he didn't look like either of our parents, but genetics is a funny thing, isn't it? The last time I saw him was over a year ago, when we left Ukraine into Russia. He was beaten, badly bleeding and talking incoherently as he staggered into our makeshift camp. He didn't tell us how he was in that condition, all he kept saying was to get to Verkhoyansk, a small fishing village up north. No further explanation was given no matter how hard we pressed the matter. After seeing him this way I wanted him to stay with us but I couldn't find a way to convince him, he wanted to leave and that was final. As if history repeated itself he left the next morning without telling us.

We tried to stay away from civilisation as best we could after that, even though we never knew exactly why back then, but we trusted his warning. We made no contact with anyone for good measure, not that we had anyone to talk to anyway. Previously, if it were an emergency we would enter a small, under populated town to spend the night or two, and the last time we did that was well before Carlos last caught up with us.

When we needed food we would hunt animals ourselves. My father was in no doubt an excellent marksman and had little trouble preparing our meals with only a small hunting knife and netting. If the game was rare or if we had no materials to complete a hunt we would steal from a well stocked farm; but that was a rare thing for us to do since we usually had a fair amount of supplies hidden away, thanks to Carlos. Our dad taught us all he knew when it came to weapons and fighting, and survival in general. I loved each lesson we had, since it was the only real strong memories I had of us being together. And even though I'm only 14 years old, in my father's eyes I am old enough to be trusted out there on my own, whether it is to catch our next meal for the night or to scout the areas ahead for any trouble waiting for us.

By now you must be wondering why we've lived this way for so long. To make a long history short: there were men and women out there who wanted my father's head on a pike, including those who have any form of relationship with him, such as Carlos and me. Even though he's my father I knew that they wanted him dead for good reasons, he was a cold hearted killer. He murdered for money. The victims were bad men themselves, making it marginally better for me to stand him, but they also had strong allies who were more than willing to avenge their deaths. It eventually got to my father when our mother's life was taken, he suspected an old objective's predecessor found out who he was and went after my mother directly, as a message. Dad slowly became more and more reckless in his work after that, eventually resulting in him getting caught after a stupid mistake, which sparked the whole 'hunted down' episode of our lives.

All of this was in the past, things have changed now, but not for the better. We're still spending our days hidden away in the wilderness, fighting for our lives, but we're not against mindless mercenaries...

The problem we're facing right now? Well, just when we thought things couldn't possibly get any worse for us, the world had decided to turn to shit. A secret facility hidden below Raccoon City (a town in the mid-west of America) had unintentionally released a virus that caused the dead to come back to life. They were unable to contain the area, so now there's an inescapable pandemic of flesh hungry infestations. This started a year ago, the day I last saw Carlos.

Even after all these years of running and hiding the plan has been the same, to get away, but I don't think anywhere is far enough from those things. The mercenaries may be gone, in hiding or turned into one of _them_, but we still can't go far without coming face to face with Death.

My father has said countless times that there are those he can trust overseas, in America, some people who he knew since he was a young teenager. They were the Redfields, and they had contacted him all those years ago when the unsuspecting death of his beloved took place. He said they offered a safe haven for us back then, with no strings attached, but declined it because he was afraid they would become victims too. Well, he changed his mind now everything has keeled over. He suspects that they have organised their own convoy of survivors and he wants to take part.

That is what our ambition is right now: to find them and to start our lives over in this new hell bound world...

* * *

_21__st__ of September, 2014_

"We're nearing Verkhoyansk." I could hear his muffled, deep voice call out in front of me. We were trekking through the thick snow, both wrapped in layers of warm clothing to protect us from the chilling wind.

Even though English is not native to us we kept using this universal language in almost every conversation, mostly to help prepare ourselves for our future lives in America. Though, our accents were a dead giveaway as to who we really were, I noticed.

I grunted, too tired to give a proper response.

It's now nightfall. We've been walking for hours with stacked packs weighing us down. I could feel my feet beginning to freeze as snow crept through the cracks of my weathered boots. Groaning in annoyance I adjusted my hood and quickened my pace to fall back in line behind him.

He must have heard me creeping closer because he continued to speak, "Once I find a payphone I'll contact an old friend of mine, he can get the exact location of the convoy. From there we will take any boat left on the docks and set off."

He didn't ask if I agreed with him or not, it's always his way or the highway.

"What about Carlos? Is he not coming with us?" I wasn't as good at speaking English as my father, but I still managed.

I didn't want to leave my only brother behind, even though he hasn't been there for us a whole lot lately.

There was a hesitant movement in his stride; the question obviously caught him off guard. For a while I could only hear the strong gusts of wind as I stared at his moving figure and waited for his reply.

"He can get there on his own." The words were harsh.

The relationship between my father and brother were not as strong as the ones they had with me. For some selfish reason he blames Carlos as being the cause of our mother dying, since he was the source of the argument that made her leave in a fit of rage. He always blames others for his problems.

From then on we walked in silence, weaving through the dormant trees as we followed the compass north-east to the small town. It wasn't until we were almost in the town itself before we realised we arrived, it blended too well with the snow, and the gentle storm prevented the scattered lights from shining through to us. Upon entering we notice the streets were empty, not a single infested being was in sight. Crouching, we made our way to the other end of town, towards the docks, hoping to find a payphone on the side of the road for us to use on the way.

Eventually, after two blocks of nothing but lone trees and abandoned wrecked cars, we spotted one ahead on the other side of the road. We wasted no time as we jogged across the street. Snatching the phone off the hook he slipped in enough money to pay for the call and dialled. There must have been no answer because he tried again. And again. Each time we both kept waiting in silence.

I scanned around us quickly to see if anything was sneaking up behind us, but still no one was in sight.

We didn't really expect there to be any connection at all, but our attempts were desperate, we had run on luck the past year when this all started and it never failed us.

I could hear a faint beeping coming from the phone.

He slammed the phone back on its hook and swore to himself in Russian. He wouldn't ever swear in any other language.

"There's no connection," he whispered to me, accent was thick when he spoke. He growled in annoyance. "We'll try another one. Let's go."

Our attempt at finding another one was near futile; we were at the end of the line. One last payphone was left before we would reach the barbed, chain link fencing around the docks. The routine continued, he slipped in the money, dialled and waited.

The lamp lights above our heads started to flicker and the wind started to pick up as we stood there. I tried huddling myself together to conserve the little warmth I had left as I heard the familiar beeping of the phone. Once again he tried another time, hoping it would actually work.

That's when I heard it. A collection of low moaning noises was coming from behind me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and I shivered, causing a wave of cold to travel through my body. Dad hadn't noticed the sounds and continued to swear at the phone and shook it in attempt to get it working. The noises started to move closer, and I could now hear the heavy footsteps echoing towards me. Slowly turning around with fists clenched I came face to face with three infected men in the distance, under the yellow beam of light, hobbling towards us. One of the men's gazes was locked with mine; he was wearing a uniform that resembled a sea captain, he must work at the docks. Their faces were covered in blood, especially around the mouths. I stepped back, taken back by the sight before me.

"_Papa?_" I tried to get his attention away from the phone. He was still banging the side.

They were moving much quicker now, the moans turned into low growls. Ten more feet and they would be able to get us.

"Dad!" I called out again. My voice sounded loud in this stilled night air, shocking both of us.

He turned away to growl at me for being careless during these times, but his words cut short as he caught sight of the infected in front of us. The bloodied men were already virtually on top of me; one had reached out, jaw open wide, ready to bite my flesh. On instinct I kicked him in the gut to move him away, but it did nothing to him, he seemed to be unaffected by it. He attempted to grab my arm, but before I gave him the chance I snatched his and twisted it, kicking him in the knee to make him drop to the cement pavement. With the same snarl on his face he got back up, and lunged at my father. With his face buried in his shoulder he bit down, hard. I could hear Dad yell out in pain as he was trying to get the man off him. But I couldn't try to help him right now; I had to turn my attention to the other two that were already desperately grabbing me. We had no weapons to defend ourselves, we ran out of ammunition a while back and we haven't found any new supplies since. The only thing we had was the hunting knife buried deep in his backpack, but we never use it in case of accidentally infecting ourselves when preparing the meat. My fists were flying, in hopes to hold them off until Dad could dispose the one on him. Once I heard the sound of a neck being twisted out of place I knew the infected was down for the count. The man went limp as he fell to the ground, motionless.

We each now had our own to take care of. The man I was facing was a large one. He looked as if he was a butcher before the end of the world with his blood stained apron swaying around him. I unconsciously snickered as he tried to attack me, his moves almost resembling a drunken grizzly bear. No matter how powerful his attacks were I was still able to easily manoeuvre around his slow swipes, to get behind him and boot behind his knee. The moment he dropped down to the right height I snapped his neck with one swift motion.

I watched as his body fell and bounce on the pavement several times before he too lay motionless.

We were both breathing heavily by the end of it, not solely out of exhaustion but out of the surprise turn of events. We've never been attacked by more than one before, since we always stayed away from any trouble, unless it found us.

"_Shit._" That was the only word that managed to come out of my mouth.

Dad ignored me. His shoulder had a large patch of missing clothing with blood forming around the open wound. He ignored the other two men as he wasted no time searching the pockets of our first attacker, the one in uniform, for any valuables. With a pat of each pocket in the front he found nothing, so he mustered up all his strength to flip the infected over. I watched as he slipped a wallet out of the back pocket and started to look through its contents.

Dad flicked out a card that was tucked away and briefly showed it to me.

"Looks like we have access to the main building now," he actually grinned at me. I've never seen him smile before. Never.

I stared at him in confusion as he retrieved his tossed bag and continued to crouch down the street. He was acting as if we were never attacked in the first place, or that he's now _very_ likely infected from the stupid fucking bite.

Shaking my head in attempt to control myself and to get the dirty blonde hair out of my eyes I decided to run after him. I moved into my old position right behind him, not bothering to try giving any medical attention since I know he will refuse it. I kept my gaze to the ground as we made our way down. The event kept circulating through my mind, the fatal bite that had ruined everything.

_We have no cure. We don't know if there is one. He's done for. I'm going to lose him._

Without realising it we passed through the front gate entrance of the dock and stopped in front of the main building's single side door. The galvanized iron wall was bare, painted a faint green with only one small, red light placed above. With a swipe of the card and a few punches on the number key pad the door clicked open.

"How did you know the numbers?"I asked in a small voice once we stepped inside.

The place was as cold as the outside world, I noticed, as I watched a cloud of frosted breath leave my mouth. The corridor was lined with waist high metal cabinets, seemingly untouched by the outside world, on top it of them were scattered loose papers and cream folders. Beneath my feet was a thin layer of broken glass, which must belong to the burst bulb above our heads. I savoured the satisfying crunch as I squashed it into the carpet. The door clicked behind us and the working lights slowly flickered on, though the place was still quiet dark, it was eerie in a way.

It's strange for him to suddenly know the combination of this place, since clearly none of those men looked stupid enough to carry it with them, even in that crazed mental state.

He made an 'hmmm' noise as if he was contemplating on how to answer my question, "I know many things, Alice. And that's all you need to know."

I snorted at the comment and walked straight past him, I was sick of standing behind him all day anyway. Without looking back I headed down and brushed my shoulder against the wall as I made for a left turn.

"Where do you think you're going?" He barked at me. I stopped almost instantly and backed a couple steps. Glancing over my shoulder I could see he was standing there, arms crossed with a stern expression. The pained look in his eyes as he forced his arms to stay still was stuck in my mind.

I was tempted to ignore him but quickly decided against it.

"We need more supplies, don't we? Besides, don't you have a call to make?" I smirked. Turning away once again I kept moving to search through the corridors, on my own.

_If he's going to act like everything's fine and fucking dandy, I will too._

His heavy footsteps headed the other way. The creaking of a swung open door pierced the air, followed by a sharp bang as he slammed it shut behind him.

_I think I pissed him off._

* * *

Most of the doors down this end were locked, and the only ones that weren't were swung off their hinges and broken beyond repair. There wasn't much inside them anyway, only the usual loose papers and thrown furniture were scattered across the rooms, making this place look long abandoned. Right now the only area that caught my interest or seemed to have any potential use was what looked to be a canteen at the end of the hallway. I made my way down, carefully swinging the double doors open and stepped inside. My shoes still echoed in the big, empty room no matter how hard I tried to tread lightly. It seems that this place was trashed too, even the ceiling which supported the fluorescent lights couldn't escape from who or whatever that done this.

Droplets and smears of blood painted the walls and floors. This place looks like it was used as a slaughter house, or maybe as an indoor battle arena. A part of me was afraid that the contestants haven't left the grounds either.

I walked straight past the tossed plastic blue tables and chairs, stepping over or around small puddles of blood while scanning every inch of the room in fear of something jumping out at me. Without hesitation I made my way over to the counter. Upon placing my hands on the cold metal I kicked myself off the ground and swung myself over, landing gently on the other side in a crouched position. I now stood between two rows of steel ovens and faced a wall lined with open cabinets, fridges and shelves stacked to the brim with dry ingredients, though most were now split open on the filthy floor.

Before I could take another step I stopped myself. I stood still, frozen in place, like a deer caught in the headlights. I could hear scratching and the sound of something being dragged along the floor, it was coming from somewhere in front of me. I watch closely with my breath wavering as I waited.

I thought my mind was playing tricks on me as an arm stretched out from behind the stove, followed by another. Someone was crawling along the floor. And when their head popped into view it snapped its neck straight into my direction, staring. Just like the men from before she was covered in a layer of blood, as if she had eaten fresh raw meat with her bare hands, like an animal.

Acting on instinct the need to find a weapon was imprinted in my mind. With a quick search of the enclosed area around us I spotted a lone frying pan sitting on the stove. Without a second thought I grabbed it and went to attack the feral woman on the linoleum floor, my conscience was thrown out the window and only desire to end her life took its place. Her hand reached up to grab my leg but I swatted it away with a swift kick. I started to bring my hands up, the hands that gripped my only chance of survival high above my head, and swung it down with as much force as I dared. Again and again I repeated until she lay motionless on the floor. Her skull was caved in and I become disgusted at the sight. I tried my best to pull myself together and ignore the smell of rotting flesh.

As I gently placed down the pan and straightened myself into a standing position, ready to continue my search for extra supplies, I could still feel an intruder nearby. It was like a sixth sense. Periodic tapping crept closer to me, followed by a familiar growling. It sounded like a... dog.

_What is dog doing here?_

The growling become louder, much fiercer now he was closer. This wasn't an ordinary dog; I thought to myself, something was very wrong with it. My suspicion was correct. The dog rounded the same corner as the woman, its skin was covered in open wounds, and fresh blood dripped from its stained teeth. It was infected. Lowering himself on his front paws it readied to pounce.

This is the first time I have ever seen an animal infected. A part of me hoped for so long that domesticated or feral animals were immune to this virus, since hurting an animal is much harder for me to do, comparing to slaughtering an infected human.

My mind was battling to either fight or flight in this situation... Fight had unfortunately won; he could out run me easy. Instead of pouncing on me as I first expected, the dog turned itself in the air and landed on top of a gas oven.

_Probably to have a better chance of mauling my face._

I waited for the right moment, when he would be airborne I would strike. The beast ran with the feral snarl plastered on its face, and leapt off.

With it no more than a mere feet away from my face, I made my move. Bringing my clenched fist far behind me, followed with my own battle cry, I threw it forward. It landed under his jaw, effectively snapping his neck. Again I watched another body fall and bounce on the floor, to lie still next to the other infected.

Deciding then and there that the attempt to find fresh supplies was useless, I stepped back, over the counter and headed outside the swinging doors. Leaning back on the freezing wall, I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply; it was to prevent myself from up chucking from the rotting smell trapped in this building.

I didn't know how long I stayed there like that, concentrating in an almost trance, with my mind blank. I forgot about my Dad, who was probably worried sick that I hadn't returned to him. Eventually though, I forced myself to get up off the wall to find him, but I didn't get far once I noticed him already rounding the corner to find me himself.

"It's time to go." His voice echoed out as he continued to walk in haste. Once he was in the right distance he grabbed my arm to get me going. "I made the call. He's told me the whereabouts of the convoy through his satellite images. The co-ordinates of their last known location are written down here. They're heading south-west through Utah, and they'll be spending a while there so if you leave now you can meet them in Nevada." He handed me a scrunched up ball of paper and I took it hesitantly.

"Why are you giving this to me? Aren't you coming with me?" I asked in fear. I couldn't bear to think of making the travel alone.

We both left the building with storm clouds brewing high in the sky and made our way out to the waters. A gust of freezing air hit me like a slap in the face, making me lower my beanie to stop my ears from turning blue. He groaned and brushed a hand through his hair before answering my question. He looked far too pale in the moonlight.

He spoke quickly and I was only able to understand a few words he was saying.

"You know as well as I do that I won't make it, Alice." He already sounded defeated. Sweat covered his forehead and he seemed to be trembling slightly as we walked, "The virus has already taken affect on me, I've only got a while longer before I'm done for." I watched as he was barely able to toss my bags into a deserted fishing boat; one that seemed to be far too expensive to be out here on its own, "I'm staying here. We'll both die if I go with you."

I stood there, my face contorted into a pained expression. I was having a hard time believing a word coming from his mouth. I know he was bitten, that was plain obvious to anyone with half a brain, and I noticed the changes in his behaviour and physical condition. He was turning into one of them. I was going to lose the last of my family and be left alone in the world, if I never met up with Carlos again that is.

He stopped moving around to try and get the boat sorted, and looked back towards me. I could tell he was going to speak again, to say everything was going to be okay, but I knew better. I cut in before he had the chance.

"I don't give a shit if you're infected! I'm not going on my own to find this stupid convoy and live alone for the rest of my life!"

"You won't have to." It was a familiar calm voice that called out, one that I haven't heard in over a year. It was Carlos.

The temptation to run over and hug him was strong, but I kept myself under control with all my effort. I always tried to look tough and withdrawn around others, like I didn't care, so I could appear more grown up than my apparent childish looks. Deep down I knew it wasn't how I wanted to act, but it worked if I wanted to get through the difficult times, such as when Carlos left us. If I wanted to dodge any heartbreaking situations or any conversations I would rather forget, I would shut myself down and be almost aloof about the whole ordeal. Though I do miss the occasional arguments I must admit.

Carlos gave a lopsided grin as he glanced at the boat behind us, "I see you found my fishing boat then?"

My brows furrowed together as I swapped my gaze from him to hunk of metal.

"It's yours? Where'd you get it?" He must have gone through a great deal of trouble to get this, or maybe it was a lucky find.

Carlos just shrugged and stepped closer to throw his own duffle bags with mine. He stopped right beside me, it was then that I realised we were both about the same height now.

"Found it not too far off the coast. There was a couple still inside, but they must've died of dehydration a few weeks before." His previous expression had noticeably faltered, but quickly recovered after he remembered I was watching him, "It has plenty of fuel too, last I checked. I even threw in a few life jackets. But Pa's not coming is he?"

We both turned our attention to our father, who was now supporting himself against our only means of escape. His steady breathing looked painful and it seemed he was barely able to stay awake.

Dad gently lifted his head from his chest upon hearing his name, displaying his face that was plastered with an angered expression. Through clenched teeth he growled at us.

"If you two don't leave here now, I will tie you both to the bow myself." Just looking into his eyes is enough to make a grown man pee his pants.

I could tell Carlos tried to contain a chuckle at his words, as did I. But in the end we did listen to him, we needed to get going. I tried to fight back my angry tears as I gave him one last hug and stepped onboard the fishing boat, to sail across the seas to our new life, alone. A part of me didn't want to leave my home behind, to leave my father or my mother, who was buried beneath this soil. Strapping on my life jacket I only watched my father; he stared back at me with a reassuring smile on his face. This is going to be the last time I'll see him. He'll either turn or kill himself before going through the painful process. I couldn't bear the thought of my father ending his life, it was enough to make me want to ball up into a fit of tears. But I stayed strong, I willed myself to keep my tears locked up.

Carlos started the engine once he checked the fuel. He said we had more than enough for the trip to America, but I couldn't concentrate on what he was saying. The reality of this situation hit me like a tonne of bricks.

"I love you... Don't ever forget that." Those were his last words that he spoke.

Carlos revved the engine, and without looking back he set off towards our destination. We had a map stored into the boat's compartments, and the boat already had an inbuilt compass behind the steering wheel. I trusted Carlos to sail us to America safely, I didn't have any doubts, which was strange since I have never seen him follow a map or steer a ship before...

Once I lost sight of our father I watched the waves behind us instead, the ones caused by the increasing speed of our large fishing boat. The white foaming water was imprinted in my mind, I stared in hopes it would replace my depressing thoughts. The tears still persisted on leaving my eyes, to slowly flow down my dirt stained cheeks. I bit my lip and lightly scrunched my face in attempt to again forget about him. At least I have my brother with me, now I won't be alone in this world as I previously feared. But for the last three years I spent my life with only my father by my side, and the sudden replacement only shocked my system.

Over and over again I replayed the good and bad memories of my life that I'm leaving behind. Today is the day I can start my life as a free kid.

* * *

_R&R. It doesn't seem like much, I know, but I've always wanted to have a crack at this. Any criticism is welcome, so don't be afraid to say anything. Clairice should be in the next chapter, but that is only if I get at least 1 review. ._


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N: Oh wow, I actually have reviews. I had to cut this in half, it was much longer than I expected so Clairice is actually in the next chapter. Sorry D: Please don't hate me, I didn't even expect to get reviews so I stayed off and continued packing my bags._**

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

* * *

_**(Alice and Carlos)**_

_17__th__ of October, 2014_

With the amount of supplies we had loaded on the boat we've been able to survive the long and daunting trip. Just. There were days when we decided to cut down on meals or water in case we had future rough seas or any other scenarios that would lengthen our trip. The sun was unrelenting as it dried the salty water on our burnt skin, and the desire to bathe in our scarce fresh water was tempting, but we were able to keep it out of reach during those times. We shed our excess clothing near the beginning of the trip, keeping only a loose shirt and pants (short shorts in my case, which I'm ashamed to say) this was only during the day since the nights were absolutely freezing over the ocean, and we had to huddle together to keep our core temperatures stable during those hours, it wasn't very comfortable but we had to deal with it.

It must have been almost a month by the time we set foot on American soil. We were lucky to find our way into a bay, which we later found out to be called Noyo Bay, homed in Fort Bragg, California. Searching the empty streets of that town we've looked through a few different stores to replace the used supplies, and in hopes of finding some sort of weapon. One of the stores we've managed to find had almost everything we could possibly need. _Almost_. The first place looked like it used to be a camping store since there were still old mountain bikes hanging high on the racks. Some canned goods and bottled water were left around inside, a couple 2-way radios were tucked away in the back room, which Carlos immediately called dibs on, but there were no weapons. The place looked like it held a lot of stuff back when the world was still relatively normal, but now the two storey building was almost empty, raided and trashed.

In another store we were able to find a map of the area. Quickly scanning through the index I noticed that there was an airport approximately 4km north of our position. When I showed it to Carlos we both agreed that it would be better to take an aeroplane than any other vehicle, although neither of us knew how to control an aircraft... But it's never too late to learn, right?

With the small haul of supplies we stuffed into our backpacks we made our way north, following the direction of our Dad's compass. Carlos was still mucking around with the radios as we made our trek, trying to get the damn things working.

"Maybe they need new batteries?" He kept tossing them over in his hands, looking at every nook and cranny.

I groaned at his attempts.

"Give it here." I held out my hand. There's no way I was going to listen to him complaining the whole way there.

Pouting he shoved the two radios towards me without looking. As soon as they were in my hands I flicked them on and put both on the same channel. I handed one back to him.

Pressing the button to activate the radio I spoke into it, "There you go, dumbass." I heard my own voice echo out the other end.

An awkward silence followed as he looked over the radio again.

"...Oh," he laughed sheepishly, "Wrong switch."

Sure, he could master any fucking vehicle, but switching on a walkie-talkie fazes him?

Shaking my head at him I had to laugh at his stupidity. Switching off the radio, in hopes to extend the battery usage, I slipped it into the pocket of my pack as we kept following the street to the airport.

* * *

By the time we got there, looking over at it from the other side of the barbed fence, we could see the destruction caused on the place. It looked like it was bombed in hopes to kill all those who flew over here, but only the main terminal building was affected by the blast, from what we could see the runway looked completely intact and the hangars housing the planes looked in good nick too. As for the planes themselves, we'll never know until we see them up front.

"Well," I sighed, "How the hell do we even get inside a hangar? They're not going to be unlocked for anyone to waltz in and take what they please."

Carlos just shrugged at me. "They might be. Let's just check it out."

Not looking back at me he began to jog down the gentle slope to the fencing around the runway. I watched as he made a running jump and grabbed the chain linked fencing, starting to climb. He stopped at the top. He failed to notice the coils of barbed wire above him, or he had seen them and thought he could climb over with skin still intact. Once I made my way down I stopped below him and threw off my backpack, inside was my jacket that I used back in Russia.

"Here, Spiderman. You might need this." I scrunched the clothing in a ball and threw it up to him.

With one hand still on the fence he untangled the jacket and swiftly chucked on top of the wire. He awkwardly tried to drop his backpack once he was done.

"Get mine out, will you?" The thicker the blanket, the better I guess.

Sorting through his messy pack I eventually forced out his thick jacket, but as it came out something fell with it; it was a pair of binoculars. I didn't know he had this. Thinking that this could be quiet useful I put it back and gave the jacket to Carlos, to put on top of mine. As soon as he was over the protective blanket I threw over our packs and followed his example, climbing over I made sure to take the jackets with me, landing next to him, we were both unscathed on the other side of the fence.

After stuffing the jackets back in the packs we crept along the outside edge of the airport, on the opposite side of the wrecked terminal building, towards the first hangar in sight. We haven't had a run in with any infected recently, I noticed.

_Maybe they've moved out of the area to look for more fresh people?_

As we reached the first hangar we continued along the steel wall, crouching and keeping our bodies almost pressed against the metal to get to the front entrance undetected, in case there actually _were_ infected or even crazed survivors ready to shoot and loot. As soon as we stopped at the front entrance we could straight away see how difficult it would be to try and open this cage of metal.

We both looked at each other and back at the massive locked sliding door in mild shock.

"There's no way we can get through _that_." Carlos shook his head in defeat, still looking in awe at the door.

We stood there for a while, just staring at the sliding door. Ideas were circulating through my mind.

"Pass me the binoculars." I extended my hand towards him.

"How'd you-?" He cut himself short; he just dropped his pack and stuck his hand in to grab the binoculars, "Here."

Mumbling a quick 'thanks' to him in return I immediately started using the binoculars to search the surrounding area.

"What are you looking for?" He asked as he narrowed his eyes in attempt to see what I was trying to search for.

I replied as I kept looking, "It's better to search the hangars from distance than to walk around all day checking them individually. Just saving time, that's- wait."

I could almost feel Carlos snap his head towards me, "What?"

"I think I saw something. There's a hangar open at the end of the runway, something is moving around inside."

"Infected or survivor?"

I lowered the binoculars and handed them back to Carlos, "I don't know, I could only see a shadow." Tightening my pack I carefully made my way down. "Either way there's an open hangar, maybe with a plane inside."

If it was only one infected in there we would be able to overtake it easily, but if it were a survivor we wouldn't know if they were friendly or not, or if they were alone. Looking up at the sun to see what time it was I could tell it was past midday, it wasn't much relevance right now but we hadn't eaten since last night and I was starving. A part of me worried that my stomach rumbling would attract unwanted attention. Quickly and quietly we jogged along the fence, keeping a close eye on the distant hangar. We were taking a huge risk being out in the open during daylight hours, if this person was a shoot and loot maniac we would be lying dead on the pavement in seconds, so for once in the past year the whole way down I was hoping it was an infected being.

The moment we met the sliding door we followed it down to the cracked opening, being extra careful where we stepped along the way. I was in front of Carlos, and at times he had to hold me back from moving too fast, I wanted to get this over with, to get out of here and meet with the convoy already. From this position I could hear movement inside the building; it echoed easily being it is a massive empty room and all. It sounded like someone rummaging through a box of tools... I looked back at Carlos, silently asking if he was hearing the same thing, from his expression I guessed he was.

Carlos moved closer to me, to whisper in my ear, "We should try calling out. If it's a survivor they might call back. If there's no answer, we run. Got it?"

I nodded. I had no ideas on how to approach this situation anyway.

After a few moments of only listening to the continued rummaging I decided to yell out.

"Hey!" I readied myself to bolt in the other direction.

Immediately there was a clinging of a tool hitting the floor.

"Shit!" A male voice called out, "Who the fuck are you?"

Relaxing slightly Carlos yelled back from behind the door, "Are you a friendly?" We were both still tensed as we waited for an answer.

"What? Frien- Yeah, man. I ain't gonna shoot ya or nothin'. Damn."

The man could still be lying and really aiming his weapon towards the door, to shoot and kill. But I decided to take another risk. Hesitantly I slowly poked my head around the corner. From the looks of the man he was an African-American, probably only in his early twenties. My gaze went straight to his holstered weapon where his hand rested, a gold plated desert eagle.

"Hey, you know how to fly this thing, man? Can't find the damn keys or nothing in this joint."

Still on alert I exposed my whole body and walked inside. I moved my gaze right to the only aircraft in the hangar.

"A helicopter?" I asked stupidly. I didn't expect a helicopter to be in here, "I don't even know how to drive a car."

The man folded his arms, shook his head and stared at the UH-60 Blackhawk. The machine was the most amazing thing I have ever seen, but then again I haven't seen much of the outside world.

"Well, shit. Name's Lloyd Jefferson Wayne. You can call me LJ." He held out his hand and I shook it.

"Alice Abernathy."

"Carlos." He waved over my head to LJ. "Maybe we should pull this thing out first. Then have a look inside for a manual."

LJ laughed at Carlos, "Be my guest, you can pull that shit out if you want, but I ain't got a clue on how this thing works."

Carlos walked past us, "We'll figure it out."

* * *

It took a fair while before we managed to get the helicopter outside and started reading through the manual. LJ and I ate lunch and got to know each other as Carlos studied the manual. Turns out, LJ was in Raccoon City when the virus escaped, he tagged along with a few others to rescue a little girl in exchange for a lift out of the city which was soon to be sanitized, bombed. Once they were in the air to their freedom they were attacked by Umbrella, the ones responsible for the virus, and crashed into a hillside. He woke up alone, to wander by himself and ended up here looking for a way out.

I didn't tell him much of our past, I only told him about the convoy in Nevada and he was more than willing to come with us. The more the merrier I suppose.

It must have been a couple of hours before Carlos believed he got the hang of the controls. There was already a bit of fuel still inside the chopper, which we hoped was enough to get across the border. Without any further delays we climbed up and strapped in for the ride of our lives.

We didn't get too far into Nevada with the little fuel we had. During the flight I looked through a large book with a detailed map of USA, tucked away in the compartment shared with the manual. We needed to find the exact location of the convoy, and with the scrunched up co-ordinates in my pocket combined with this map I figured they were taking the route from Utah towards the famous Las Vegas. At the mention of Vegas LJ decided to share some bad moments that he had in that gambling city, we welcomed the anecdotes since it was a change of pace of our usual silent trips with just me and Carlos, or Dad.

Upon landing the beautiful aircraft close to the weed riddled road we immediately began setting up camp, next to the machine, and ate our last meal of the day. Using nearby decaying shrubs and bushes as firewood we lit a small campfire, heating up the cans. It was possible all because of LJ, he was a smoker and had a few spare lighters tucked away in his back pocket. Together we sat close around the flames to get as much warmth as possible.

"We're probably only 25 to 30 kilometres from Las Vegas," Carlos spoke as I began poking the fire with a short stick, causing small red and orange sparks to fly. "This is the road that the convoy should be taking. We can hunker up and wait for them or we can meet them half way."

"Don't these big convoys have radio broadcasts and shit?" LJ was already lounging between the chopper and the flames, eating a can of baked beans.

"We might not be close enough to pick up the broadcasts. For all we know they probably haven't even left Utah yet. Or they're already into Vegas. We have no idea how fast these guys are travelling, it's impossible to tell _exactly_ where they are."

As they continued talking I took the opportunity to slip out one of the radios from my pack. All this talk of broadcasts got me the urge to check for myself if they were nearby. Flicking it on I started surfing through the channels, but I was only met with static on each one.

"Nothing?" Carlos asked me. He was doing the same thing as me.

I shook my head, and spoke through the radio, "Not a damn thing." Chuckling as I heard my voice come out the other end.

He ran a hand through his hair as we watched the flames dance in front of us. At least we made it safely into Nevada, and with a new survivor.

"Let's just turn in for the night, sort it out in the morning."

* * *

**_(The Convoy)_**

The small convoy had turned in early for the night after a long day of constant travelling. They settled in a relatively flat stretch of sand off the side of the road, or what's the remains of a road that is, and continued the normal end of the day ritual. The morning had been especially brutal for them as the desert scorched high in temperatures, making the survivors sticky, uncomfortable and more moody as usual since there was little they could do to cool themselves down. Couldn't they just flipped a switch and turn on the vehicle's air conditioning? Of course not! They couldn't afford that kind of luxury in this barren wasteland, you want fresh air you stick your head out the window. And there was no way they could use the scarce fresh water on their sun burnt skin at will. Everything was rationed with reason, so the only way to get a bottle is to sell your own limbs...small price some would pay during these desperate times.

The perimeter was all set well before the sun dipped below the horizon. Mickey, the sixteen year old electronics operator of the convoy would be up most of the night keeping an eye on each monitor in the old news van, once his shift is up it would be Chase's turn, the man in charge of the one and only fuel source... The most important person in this convoy, the leader, was also the one responsible for placing the portable surveillance cameras around: the young, red haired Claire Redfield. She may be far younger than half of these survivors, but without her things would most likely have turned to shit.

"Claire?" The cowboy, Chase, called out in the darkened night.

He stood alone in the camp. All the others were fast asleep, or on shift to keep on look out.

It was hard for the man to see far, even with the combined light from the full moon and the lone gentle campfire, which kept him warm as he waited for his shift to start.

No response came from the darkness. Chase tightened his leather duster and adjusted his Stetson cowboy hat before exhaling a breath in annoyance. As he walked forward his worn out leather boots scrapped the desert sands, creating a small cloud of dust behind him. He had been looking for Claire for a while now, it was time to turn in for the night and no one has spotted her after she set up the perimeter.

Every survivor in the group knows that he acted like a father towards Claire. They've never met before the outbreak, but as soon as he joined in with the convoy and laid eyes on the stubborn redhead he could truly see the weight of troubles on the kid's shoulders and was compelled to look after her, like she was his own child.

Stopping at the edge of the camp, he looked beyond the sea of dunes, towards the empty horizon. "Where've you gone now?"

It wasn't an uncommon occurrence for Claire to wander off. Not away from the camp itself, otherwise the alarm would go off, but hidden along the border simply stargazing or tucked away in one of the vehicles, keeping the occupants up all night from constant talking about new ideas to improve the convoy. But she was nowhere near worse as K-mart though, their newest recruit. Both K-mart and Claire are the same age, only fourteen years old, yet they could be quiet a handful at night. They would stay up and talk far too loud or abuse Mickey's electronics to listen to music... Don't get me wrong, they're not irresponsible, they do their fair share of work and keep in line, but sometimes they can be like a pair of squirrels on speed with the kind of things they come up with.

Chase ticked off the areas that he hadn't spotted the young leader. She wasn't with K-mart, since she was fast asleep in the yellow hummer, she wasn't inside the ambulance talking with Betty, or even with the kids hunkered inside the school bus, and he searched the entire grounds inside the perimeter and hasn't found a clue of her being there. Only one more place came into mind as to where she could possibly be.

"_Mickey."_

Marching away from the invisible barrier he headed over to the old, battered news van with a menacing scowl on his face. He got ready to give a long lecture to the good looking Australian boy about being alone with his semi-adopted daughter.

Ripping open the double doors and glaring hard inside he found none other than Claire Redfield, engrossed with the radio system, sitting beside a sleepy looking Mikey. At the sudden sound and movement caused by Chase the teens jumped in their chairs and whipped their heads towards the door, looking surprised and almost scared at the intruder.

"Christ sake, mate. You scared the shit out of me." Mickey let out a breath that he unconsciously held onto to settle himself down. But he was still looking on edge after his unwanted boost of adrenaline.

Chase ignored his comment and kept his attention to the young redhead, "It's getting late, little lady. We've got a long day tomorrow. Remember?"

Claire slipped off one side of her headphones and turned her head to face the cowboy, "I know, I know. We're almost in Vegas. Just a little while longer, okay? I think I got something."

Turning her attention back to the radio hand held radio in front of her she adjusted the frequency slightly. She kept listening intently into the headset, waiting for something to show up again, hoping it wasn't a recording and there truly were more survivors out there.

"What you got there?" Chase asked as he stepped up into the vehicle, and crouched next to Claire.

She didn't reply for a few moments, in case she would miss the voices.

"I was looking through the different channels a while ago, to see if there are any broadcasts nearby. I think I heard voices, but I went straight over it and I can't find it again. They have to be within a 10km radius of us for this piece of crap to pick it up."

Chase just watched as Claire sat still, with her head cocked as she continued listening intently. He shook his head in amusement and chuckled lightly. Gently taking off the headphones to get her attention he began to speak again.

"I'll take over for the night," He looked over to the Australian, "You look half dead anyway, Mikey. Get to bed you two."

Not needing to be told twice Mikey leapt out of his own chair and out the back doors, to his sleeping quarters. Claire was more hesitant than him, she wanted to stay in the van but she knew it was a big day tomorrow, as Chase said, and she had to be in the best condition possible if she hoped to keep her position as leader. Reluctantly she tossed the headphones and radio back on the bench and followed Mikey outside, to join K-mart in the yellow hummer.

"Night, Claire," he said once she was out of the vehicle.

Claire closed the doors shut behind her, "Good night, Chase."

* * *

**_R&R please. I know I said Clairice was suppose to be in this chapter, but I didn't realize how long it was :\ So I cut it off here. I should be posting that chapter later on. _**

**_You must hate me right now D: -flees-_**


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